


Sick of Losing Soulmates

by Liquidation



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Russian Mafia, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquidation/pseuds/Liquidation
Summary: In a world where you stop aging upon reaching adulthood until you meet the latest reincarnation of your soulmate, Yuuri finds himself one of the youngest leaders of a criminal organization at the tender age of twenty-three facing against adversaries centuries older than himself. He's out of his depth, playing a dangerous game others have been playing for longer than he's been alive. It's only natural that he feels a certain kind of dread when having to face Victor Nikiforov, the infamous Pakhan who is rumored to be two thousand years old."What do you know of Victor Nikiforov?""Victor Nikiforov? Is there anyone in our line of work who doesn't know who he is?""And what of his soulmate?"“It’s only speculation but… they never live long after meeting him."





	Sick of Losing Soulmates

“What do you know of Victor Nikiforov?”

 

Phichit glanced up from his phone. Across from him Yuuri watched the scenery pass by, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. To others, Yuuri may seem cold, calm, and collected, but Phichit knew better. He could see the nervous tension in his neck and shoulders, the way he tapped his fingers to hide how his hands trembled. Yuuri was anxious and with good reason. They were practically entering the viper’s nest.

 

“Victor Nikiforov?” he questioned, his tone light, “is there anyone in our line of work who doesn’t know who he is?” Yuuri shot him a frustrated glare and he raised his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Honestly, I don’t know much about him, but not for a lack of trying. He’s not a man who has many close friends and no one in his inner circle is older than a millenia. There’s no one in our business that even comes close to his supposed two thousand years, so the birth of his empire remains largely unknown. I can’t dig up dirt on the man if there’s no one alive to spill the beans.”

 

“And what of his soulmate?”

 

Phichit sighed as he tapped at his phone again, pulling up the files. “I’m not sure if you’re going to like this…” He handed Yuuri the phone and the Japanese man accepted it with grim curiosity. “Ayesha Delacroix, born 1875 and died in 1896. A French prostitute that Nikiforov was seen multiple times with in Paris over a span of a month, an odd behavior for the usually private man. She was murdered by one of his underlings during a… transaction if you will.”

 

Yuuri frowned at the coy blonde angel on Nikiforov’s arm who looked up at the man in such adoration as if he alone hung the stars. It was always the young ones like himself that he felt pity for. They hardly had the time to live their life before having it ripped away from them. With a grimace, he swiped. The next photo was of an Asian male, a figure skater who was frozen in time mid-spin. Despite the low quality of the black and white photo, Nikiforov was clearly behind the barrier in the background watching from afar. 

 

“Yuki Hanakoya, a Japanese international figure skater and gold-medalist, born 1902 and died 1924. While there isn’t any photographic evidence of the two of them together, there was never a competition of his that Nikiforov missed after they met at a gala in 1923. It was after this very competition that Yuki was shot and killed shortly after receiving his fifth consecutive gold medal. His death still shakes the figure skating world, though everyone assumed the perpetrator was a deranged fan. After doing some digging, I found out that the shooter had to be a sniper.”

 

“Dimitry Ivanoff,” Phichit said as Yuuri moved to the next photo. A handsome man with high cheekbones and thick brown hair smiled shyly as he placed a cup in front of Nikiforov himself. “Born 1930, died 1956. A humble Russian man who owned a small cafe in St. Petersburg where they met. Dimitry’s body would be found in the Neva River by the police only a week after this photo was taken. They officially ruled it as a suicide, but the man’s hands and legs had been bound before his deadly plunge.”

 

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was looking frighteningly pale with each case. “This is disgusting.”

 

“It goes on,” Phichit replied grimly, swiping at the phone when Yuuri didn’t. This one was a video, one of terrible quality, but a video no less. They watched as Nikiforov and his entourage walked through a busy market, only to see the man freeze upon making eye contact with a flower stall owner. 

 

_ “You’re my soulmate!” the young man exclaimed merrily, nearly tumbling over the stall counter clumsily, “I can’t believe I’ve met you this soon! I’m Gabriel.” His charming enthusiasm was met with Nikiforov’s initial look of shock and perhaps even a trace of fear could be detected in the fuzzy video, but a beautifully cold smile quickly replaced the look. _

 

_ “Hmm, I believe you are mistaken,” the Russian man replied in kind, but the other man was quick to grab his wrist - a bold move no one who truly knew what kind of business Nikiforov ran would ever dare to do. _

 

_ “I know you felt it too,” the man said in earnest, “we’re soulmates.” _

 

_ That’s when Nikiforov seemingly had had enough and yanked his arm back. “I do not have a soulmate.” _

 

The video ended there, leaving Yuuri silent.

 

“Gabriel Rodriguez, born 1965 and died 1988. He was a young college student studying dance in New York City. You should see the videos, he could have been someone big. Instead, he was found gutted in a street alley only a few days later. Gabriel was really the only confirmed soulmate of Nikiforov, but it seems as though there is a trend, no?”

 

“So what?” Yuuri asked, his voice shaking despite himself as he ran a hand through his hair. “Nikiforov kills off his soulmates?”

 

Phichit frowned, tucking his phone away. “It’s only speculation but… they never live long after meeting him. It would explain why he’s practically immortal.”

 

“That’s absolutely sick… they were all so  _ young. _ ”

 

“I’m sorry,” Phichit admitted, “I probably shouldn’t have showed you. It doesn’t help your nerves as it is.”

 

“No,” Yuuri said firmly, startling the other man with his sudden conviction. “No, I’m glad that you showed me. I needed to know what I’m possibly going up against.”

 

He wanted to argue, but held his tongue in stead. In times like these, Yuuri ultimately needed time to think. Neither of them knew what to prepare for as their car pulled into the Bratva’s estate.

 

The meeting was a disaster. At the tender age of twenty-three, Yuuri knew he would be the youngest in attendance and he was mocked for it from the start. Physically, he looked no older than most in attendance save for Yakov Feltsman and Celestino Cialdini who had found their soulmates and a fiery blonde child who screamed at him the second he walked through the door, but the other mafia heads were easily a few hundred years his senior. Sara Crispino practically cooed over him like an infant while the others gave him smug smirks in passing. On top of that, he wasn’t able to secure the trade deal he needed with Canada and it took everything in him not to blow up as JJ continuously brought up his age and inexperience. Yuuri would have to return to Japan empty-handed, having failed his purpose.

 

Perhaps that’s how he found himself sixteen flutes of champagne drunker dancing carelessly with one of Nikiforov’s bodyguards after wiping the floor with that rude kid he shared a name with. Was it appropriate or becoming behavior for an Oyabun? No, but Yuuri figured if he died of alcohol poisoning, he would simply be reborn and start over none the wiser. Hopefully he’d be someone who wasn’t born with crippling anxiety. 

 

And that was his last coherent thought before the rest of the night went black. 

 

He awoke to a splitting headache the next morning as the morning sun pierced through the curtains. Yuuri stiffened then, suddenly stone cold sober as he forced his body to remain perfectly still. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he wasn’t in his and Phichit’s hotel room. Gingerly sitting up and biting back the urge to vomit, he finally noticed the body next to him. He would recognize the silver hair anywhere. Victor Nikiforov slept soundly beside him, naked, and looking thoroughly debauched. It took him only a moment longer to realize that he was in the same condition and suddenly he found his heart in his throat as the situation dawned on him.

 

Despite his headache, he called upon all of his previous training to remove himself from the bed and find all of his clothes as silently as he could without waking the man who was still sleeping in the bed. He didn’t even bother buttoning his shirt or pants as he reached for the door knob. The resounding creak behind him froze him to the spot though.

 

Nikiforov sat up in bed with a moan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yuuri?”

 

And with that, Yuuri fled. He brushed past the blonde guard he danced with the previous night in his haste, causing the man to shout in alarm and give chase. “Hey! Stop!”

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Yuuri cursed under his breath as he fumbled for his phone, ignoring the many missed calls the flashed across the screen. Hitting speed dial, he waited impatiently for Phichit to pick up as he tried to find his way out of this maze of an estate. Thankfully, his friend picked up on the first ring.

 

_ “Yuuri? Oh thank god you’re okay!”  _ Phichit said in evident relief.

 

“Why would you let me sleep with Victor Nikiforov?” Yuuri practically hissed through the phone as he shoved past another guard and jumped over a railing. “The man who you said  _ murdered  _ his soulmates? Are you crazy? What do you think he does to one night stands?”

 

_ “They barred me when I tried,”  _ Phichit snapped back impatiently before growing cautious,  _ “I know how you get when you drink. Do you remember last night at all?” _

 

He had at least ten guards running after him now. Jesus Christ couldn’t a guy leave a one night stand in peace? “No, I can’t say that I do.”

 

_ “Yuuri, you need to get out of there now.” _

 

He skidded as he sharply cut a corner, leaving the men after him stumbling. Why weren’t they shooting? He wasn’t even armed. “Believe me, I’m trying to but I’m being flanked by Nikiforov’s guards.”

 

_ “You don’t understand. Yuuri last night you ran into Nikiforov-” _

 

“I apparently did a lot more than just  _ run into Nikiforov _ ,” he sassed back angrily as he took the stairs down two at a time.

 

_ “Yuuri, last night you announced in front of everyone-” _

 

Yuuri skidded to a halt after tumbling down the last set of stairs into the grand foyer. The front door was completely blocked by five men and only a moment later he found himself surrounded. Nikiforov himself calmly strolled down the grand staircase wearing a pair of pajama pants that hung low against his hips, showing off the bruises and bitemarks he had left there the night before. He quickly realized how the both of them must look standing only half dressed in the foyer in front of the entire Nikiforov household.

 

“I need to go,” Yuuri hissed into the phone before slamming his burner phone shut.

 

_ “Yuuri, he’s your-” _

 

“Ah Yuuri,” Nikiforov called, his tone friendly but his eyes wary and cautious, “where are you going so soon?”

 

Yuuri swallowed, but turned to face him head on as the man approached him. “I’m afraid I have to leave. I have business to deal with in Japan, I’m sure you understand.”

 

“That is all well and good, but,” he smiled tightly, “I can’t allow you to leave”

 

He was completely taken back by that. “Excuse me?”

 

“You’ll find that I can be very accommodating,” he continued on, “you’ll never want for anything.”

 

He gritted his teeth and glared at the man. Was this all some sort of game to him? “I have to go back. You can’t keep me here!”

 

Nikiforov grabbed him by the shoulders then, startling him as his blue eyes bored into his own. “I can and I will,” he said with such ferocity, yet there was a desperation in his eyes and a burning sensation between them he couldn’t quite place as he stared back. “I won’t let you out of my sight again.”

 

He broke away from his hold and stumbled back. “So what?” Yuuri spat back bitterly. “Am I a hostage? Leverage?”

 

Nikiforov’s face was unreadable as he swallowed and looked away. “It’s simple really, though perhaps selfish of me… You’re my soulmate.”

 

Yuuri felt his blood run cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Cue angst, violence, misunderstandings, true love, and maybe a happy ending? Maybe a bittersweet one? Who knows?
> 
> So basically everyone stops aging at adulthood until you meet your soulmate, at which point you will grow old and die together thus ending the reincarnation cycle. However, you can still die from accidents and bodily harm from which point you will be reincarnated without your previous life's memories and your soulmate will once again be frozen in time until you meet again.
> 
> Poor soul Yuuri.


End file.
